


someone will love you (let me go)

by theclaravoyant



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: AOS Advent 2017, Endgame Skitz, F/M, Gen, Internal Monologue, Multi, UA
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-15
Updated: 2017-12-15
Packaged: 2019-02-15 03:07:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13021956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theclaravoyant/pseuds/theclaravoyant
Summary: Fitz & Skye start dating during Jemma's absence in Season 2. Upon her return, Jemma struggles to deal with how things have changed, leading to a reflection on her own feelings and a discussion with Skye about the man they both love so dearly in such different ways.Endgame Skitz (platonic Skimmons) but if you'd prefer to envision endgame FitzSkimmons I don't mind.





	someone will love you (let me go)

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Fitz and Skye/Daisy start dating, and Simmons struggles with it.
> 
> also for AOS Advent 2017 prompt [love](https://aosadvent2017.tumblr.com/post/168524693025/banner-by-the-beautiful-merryfitzsimmons-12#notes)

_I've been hoping somebody loves you in the ways I couldn't_  
_Somebody's taking care of all of the mess I've made_  
_Someone you don't have to change_  
\- [Let Me Go](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=heSU21wvxUQ), by Hailee Steinfeld & Alesso

-

Maybe it is the way he skirts around her to do it that hurts; bustling past her with two cups in his hands, but neither one of them meant for her. He’s put the kettle on again for her, at least, but it still stings as Jemma raps her nails on an empty cup, waiting, while Fitz sets Skye’s down in front of her, kisses her cheek, and rushes off down the hall with a glint in his eye as if he has something to do. His feet are bouncing, fingers trembling with a purpose that he’d lost for so long – and that, even so, he puts on hold when Skye leans back from the bench and calls after him – 

“Hey!” 

He turns. “Mm?”

“We still on for _Indiana Jones_ tonight?”

“Absolutely.” 

“See you there.” 

No words bubble up in Jemma’s throat – no enquiries, no invitation. She knows it is not her place. Not anymore. But it still hurts, in a strange way, to see the settled, comforted smile that comes to rest over Fitz’s face as he continues about his day with a little less of a manic edge to his energy. It’s as though Skye has brought him something that she herself could not - which, Jemma supposes, is the truth of it. 

It’s a truth she’s going to have to come to terms with, and she’s usually quite good at living with truth, but in this case it’s as if every fibre of her body rejects it; not out of hatred or judgement or spite of Fitz, or even of Skye, but simply of the way things are. The way that Skye and Fitz chat and banter like before – or, well, almost like before, except that now they stand a little closer, touch a little more, and sometimes when one makes the other laugh, they share a kiss or a squeeze of the hand or some other little moment that says _I’m yours._ In these little moments it is like they are the only ones in the world – but they are not, and Jemma feels it acutely like liquid her lungs, that she is on the outside, looking in on her best friends having the time of their lives.

This hurt, it’s a lot like jealousy, Jemma muses. It has an indignant edge, though Jemma knows that it should not: who is she to deny their happiness, after all, and why should she want to? Should she not feel unspeakable joy, that her two best friends have found such love in each other? And is it even jealousy, if she has never wanted Fitz in that way to begin with? 

“…Jemma?” 

Awakened from her reverie, Jemma looks to Skye, who is frowning expectantly across the bench as if she’s been talking for some time, and awaiting some sort of answer. But Jemma can’t remember if Skye has even spoken, let alone what she might have said. She blinks helplessly, and Skye sighs and shakes her head. 

“You need to let it go.” 

Her voice has a concern, and a warning, and a sympathy to it that tells Jemma exactly what – or rather, who - _it_ is, even as Skye plucks a protein bar from the ‘fruit’ bowl, and strides off on her own way without another word. 

.o.o.o. 

Jemma busies herself that night with _Doctor Who_ instead. She knows most of the newer episodes by heart, but the familiarity and the optimism of it are comforts in this trying world. Even so, Jemma finds it difficult to sit still and watch; she’s distracted by every sound, thinking it’s _Indiana Jones,_ or Skye and Fitz talking, or maybe even not talking at all but doing something quite different that’s none of her business and even though she _knows_ they’re rooms and walls away her mind creates phantoms. She plugs in a set of earphones to drown them out and is suddenly struck – and not for the first time – by how ridiculous she is being.

Why is she so preoccupied? Jemma wonders. It feels as though she has left the lab in someone else’s charge; as if she is paranoid that somebody is going to do something wrong. Does that mean she’s treating Fitz as – as what, her responsibility? Certainly not her lover, she thinks, or else she’d want him here with her, or at least away from Skye. But that’s not it. Not that she’d be opposed to his presence, of course, but she feels no injustice or void to be filled. She has enjoyed _Doctor Who_ before Fitz and she’ll enjoy it after him, if she has to. But then… now that she thinks about it, she has never really imagined a time _after Fitz._ She’s never quite envisioned the possibility that he would not want to spend every second of his spare time with her. Her hypothetical futures without Fitz have always been by force; not by choice, and certainly not by love. How has she come to think she has such a claim on his time, or over his heart, to feel like she’s left a child with a babysitter, instead of a friend with a woman he loves?

Jemma yanks the earbuds from her ears and slams her laptop closed. She slides off her bed, raking her hands through her hair as her stomach twists awfully. Fitz is an adult, making choices with his time that have always been his to make. And it’s not like this is the first time he and Skye have had movie nights without her. But it’s the first time, as far as she can remember, that she has explicitly not been invited, and for a reason she’s hovering frustratingly close to but can’t quite put her finger on, that makes her angry.

Why? _Why?_ she demands of herself, pacing around her room. 

Well, why does anything or anyone get angry? They’re hurt, or scared. 

She’s hurt that Fitz didn’t choose her. As selfish as that makes her sound – especially in light of the fact that not so long ago, he very much did choose her – it is a hurt. Especially after so much time apart; so long spent dreaming of their reunion; so long expecting to walk right back into his life… and not just that, but to run back into his open arms, and spin around in wild exhilaration, and they would both be healed and fixed and together again and it would all go back to normal somehow. It hurts that the way Skye and Fitz’s relationship has developed is just one, glaringly painful example of how very wrong she’d been. 

But… maybe she’s also scared. Scared that because ‘FitzSimmons’ is not yet fixed, they will _never_ be fixed. Scared that she doesn’t understand what ‘fixed’ is in this mad new world; that perhaps she never has. Slowly, reluctantly, Jemma begins to admit to herself that she’s scared, scared, scared. Scared that Fitz choosing to spend tonight away from her will mean choosing every night away from her; that having to watch Doctor Who without him tonight will mean _always_ watching Doctor Who without him. Maybe she’s even scared that her friendship with Skye is over too; that they will choose each other instead of her. Now that thought, she truly cannot bear – and yet, she can’t help but think that she’s brought it on herself. 

She brought it upon herself when she left Fitz, alone, in one of the darkest times of his life. She lied to him, intending to soften the blow but in reality, leading him to believe that she has no faith in him - and maybe, though she hates to admit it, Fitz was a little bit right about that. On top of that, Jemma had let Skye believe that she’d walked out on them both. Even knowing Skye’s history of abandonment, and that she could keep a secret like nobody’s business when she wanted to, Jemma hadn’t seen fit to trust her. At least, she imagines, that’s probably how Skye sees it. Then, to make matters worse, Skye had witnessed firsthand Fitz’s heartbreak and pain and the state Jemma had left him in. It’s no wonder that they should choose each other over her, and the rightfulness of it only makes Jemma more afraid.

(So afraid, in fact, that tears begin to fill her eyes).

Frustrated at her own vulnerability and the weakness it makes her feel, Jemma wipes at her eyes. She catches sight of her reflection in that moment and hums to herself in despair, feeling ever more pathetic by the second. She feels like a petulant child, and when somebody knocks gently on her door, it is all she can do not to screech at them to _go away_ and bury her head in her pillow. 

Instead, Jemma pulls herself together like a well-functioning, non-crisis-having adult and opens the door – and catches her breath. Skye is standing there, in fresh pyjamas and with a towel wrapped around her head. When she sees Jemma’s sorry state, her expression softens. 

“Do we need to talk about this morning?” she asks. 

“What about it?” 

“About you being weird. About Fitz bringing me coffee.” 

Jemma sighs and steps back from the doorway, inviting Skye inside. 

“Don’t you have a date?” she wonders. 

“I’m on my way,” Skye explains, “but I thought you and I left things on a weird note this morning and I just wanted to check – are we good?” 

“Sure,” Jemma answers weakly. “Absolutely. Why - why would we not be good?” 

“Uh, maybe coz I stole your boyfriend?” 

“You didn’t _steal_ him,” and Jemma can’t help but snort when she feels her fist clench up defensively. “And he’s not my boyfriend.” 

“Are you sure?” 

This, at least, Jemma can answer honestly without dodging any asteroids of emotion.  
  
“I’m sure,” she insists. 

“Good,” Skye agrees. “Because I don’t want to get in the way of you two, but I’m not going to be second fiddle either. I don’t always want to be competing with Fitz’s best friend.” 

“Me?” Jemma points at herself, incredulous. “No, I don’t want Fitz – I mean, not like that, I’m just his friend. You’ve got nothing to worry about on that front and Fitz? Well, he – he certainly looks like he’s all in, so, congratulations.”

And _damn it_ the tears are coming again. Jemma wipes her eyes furiously, and Skye hums in sympathy and walks over, enveloping Jemma in her arms for a moment. 

“I know,” she croons, “and I promise, I’m looking after him.” 

“Looking – after him?” Jemma repeats Skye’s words absently, wondering why something in her chest seems to unclench upon hearing them. “Of course you’re looking after him, why would you – oh...” 

Skye releases her, smiling tearfully. “There it is,” she whispers, watching realisation dawn on Jemma’s face. 

“I – I guess I hadn’t noticed that part,” Jemma says, apologetic. “So many people have hurt him, and I wanted to keep him safe. Even if that meant putting myself into every aspect of his life, so nobody would be able to get to him without going through me. His father, the bullies at school, the girls who used to mess with him… now Ward…” 

“I know, I know,” Skye agrees, cutting Jemma off. “He has a soft little mollusc of a heart but I will protect it with everything I have. _Everything._ I promise.”

“I know you will.” Jemma sniffs, and pulls Skye back into an even tighter hug. “And if I ever gave you the impression that I didn’t trust you, or you weren’t good enough, I’m really sorry. Fitz loves you, and I love you, and I know you’d never hurt him.” 

“And if I ever gave you the impression that I wanted to keep him away from you, or that we don’t want you around, then I’m sorry too. And I know he is too.” Gradually, they part back to arms length again. Skye dabs at her cheek and adds: “Besides, I don’t blame you for acting weird. Emotions are hard. And Fitz’s heart makes some bullshit decisions.” 

“He told you about Alistair?”

“Oh yeah. If I ever meet that guy I’m definitely punching him in the face.” 

“Ha. Get in line, missy.” 

“Gladly. I’ll help you with your technique while we wait.” 

Skye smirks, and Jemma finds herself smirking right back. Tears shine on both their faces; the marks of the love and courage that it has taken them to get to this point. This time, neither makes an effort to wipe them away.

“Seriously, though,” Skye remarks, “how does the guy get his heart ripped out and spat on so many times, and keep believing in people like that?” 

Jemma purses her lips, to stop her smile from spreading at the look of wonder on Skye’s face – and her apparent obliviousness to the brilliance of her own soul and the reason, no doubt, that she was so drawn to Fitz in the first place.

“I don’t know,” Jemma muses. “I suppose you’ll have to ask him.”


End file.
